Florida, the sunshine state -- because of its wonderful climate, it's also the choice state for the homeless. You see them everywhere in Tallahassee, along Tennessee Street, on Magnolia, on the outskirts of suburbia. Though we avert our eyes when they ask for money, their plight fascinates us. The homeless provide our daily life with a ready-made freak show. They also give us instant relief to our own situation. Our day-to-day must pale in comparison to the bag lady on the corner; at the least, we have our basic needs.
But very few of us really know what it's like to be homeless. None of us really know who the homeless are; we picture winos on benches and guys with "Will Work For ____" signs. However, from January 16 to February 27, we will be given the chance to see true images of the homeless. Hollace M. Figueira will be showing her collection of photographs of the homeless at the FAMU Foster-Tanner Gallery. For close to 20 years, Holly has been going among the homeless, into their camps, into the heart of the city, to document the victims of this horrifying silent epidemic.
The Story
Holly's story began with the death of her father in 1978. She went into severe depression and her therapist recommended taking up photography to help focus on things other than her personal problems; Holly ended up capturing the problems of poverty.
"In 1978, 'homeless' was not a household word. The homeless weren't an issue," Holly recounts in our telephone interview last Tuesday evening. "I did it out of acute depression. I didn't know at the time what I was doing. I was very innocent. It wasn't fashionable."
"I don't want people to think I was some opportunist. I was 26," she explains, "I came from a multi-million dollar family. I went out in the dead of winter and took pictures of people sleeping on these benches."
However, being innocent of the trauma of homeless did not mean Holly was ignorant of their plight. Though her father was a wealthy jeweler, he came from a family that was so poor that he had to be put up for adoption. He never forgot the reality of poverty. The homeless hadn't yet become a "cause" but he believed that "if you have anything in this life, you're going to have to give something back."
Holly isn't sure why she originally started taking pictures of the homeless. She states, "I did it out of therapy." But that doesn't explain the psychology, the intricate irony of fate that led her to photograph the homeless. She realizes, "On some level, I was homeless myself. I was uprooted. I was on disability. I had a total breakdown."
"I saw these people sleeping on the benches. I wasn't there yet. But I'm one of the lucky people. I'm one of the people who got salvaged," she reflects.
She took these pictures of the New York homeless from 1978 to 1980. Then, she put them up. She had close to 100 photographs. In August 1981, while she was living in Florida, she sent them to her therapist who was on the New York Homeless Coalition. She suggested that Holly show her catalog of poverty in New York City.
The second leg of Holly's journey began with photographing the homeless in her current home, Florida. People in Florida didn't want to see the homeless in New York who weren't their problem so she brought the tragedy home to Florida viewers.
The Process
Originally, Holly took pictures of the people from far away. Why? "For the same reason why people just roll down the window and give them a buck. We're so quick to stereotype. I don't do that anymore. I'm very interested in going up an talking to them. I befriend people when I go into the camps." She adds, "Now, the pictures I took in Tallahassee, I'm sitting with them."
She doesn't prepare for her shoots. She doesn't have any images in her mind before she begins her documentation of a rapidly growing problem. "I have a pocketful of singles. That's the only thing I prepare. I always have $30 in singles."
The Lessons
She feels much more knowledgeable about her subject matter than when she first began. The homeless is, as she eloquently phrased it, "a tapestry of people." But she has no illusions. "This is just an exhibit. I can't change it."
These days, entire families are on the streets; many people are just a paycheck away from being homeless. The homeless include runaways and battered women and children -- all races of people, all ages, all walks of life. Poverty and homelessness are as equal opportunity as death and it's this democracy of poverty Holly tries to immortalize on film.
"I'm always in a constant reality check," she asserts. "It's harden me up. I'm appreciative of it though. It's a good feeling. I can educate and re-educate people."
She now feels it's time to move her show. "Tallahassee is the finale. I'm moving to New York. I've saturated Florida. It will be much easier back East."
The Show
Her show consists of 62 photographs (though her collection consists of 115). They are all pictures of the homeless in Florida. Some are "bums" in the typical sense of the word: disheveled, dirty, kind of scary. Others are of such normal-looking people, it's disturbing. There are women, children, and families in her show, not just the stereotypical drunks and crazies.
The show will run until the February 27. There is no charge but donations to the homeless are encouraged.
In the world that is called Fashion, the fashion gods, i.e. designers, sit in their penthouses, deciding the fate of hemlines, tie widths, and color schemes. These vogue deities create haute couture, impractical and preposterously expensive clothing which is meant to be trend setting. Then they design a line of off-the-rack clothing that is more practical in daily life though only slightly less exorbitant. These designs slowly filter down the fashion food chain, eventually ending up in malls across America as department store knock-offs.
Generally speaking, by the time a style hits the small screen, it's practically a relic in designer terms. Take for instance shows like Three's Company and WKRP in Cincinnati; they're the epitome of the seventies look, a look the shows didn't create. The producers merely cashed in on clothing styles that were already "in” but T.V. helped entrenched the 70s styles.
Or, as another example, take the Ally McBeal / Friends anorexic chic; the shows didn't "start" the waif look -- that started on the runways years ago with Kate Moss and her ilk. Yet the popularity of Ally and Monica keep emaciation "in."
Television, nonetheless, is still a very powerful vehicle in creating an indelable moment in fashion.
Our first lady of fashion fads is Farrah Fawcett and her fabulously feathered hair. As the perky Jill Munroe in Charlie's Angels, Farrah Fawcett fanned a fad that people could really sink the teeth of their combs into. Her hair was feathered, fluffy and fun -- the perfect hairdo for the frolicking 70s.
The Dukes of Hazzard beget another of the seventies' fashion vixens ... Daisy Duke. Daisy's contribution was cutoffs, a.k.a. Daisy Dukes. True, The Dukes of Hazzard didn't invent cutoffs. Yet once Catherine Bach donned those flirty short shorts, bringing them out of the trailer park and onto the small screen, Daisy Duke became synonymous with both cutoffs and sex appeal.
The next big landmark between fashion and television came in 1981 with Dynasty. The basis of the show was not unusual ... a night time soap opera, like Dallas and Knot's Landing, depicting the trials and tribulations of the rich and beautiful. Yet over the top fashion of Dynasty was completely unprecedented. Everything was done to the hilt. Evening gowns and tuxedos were seen regularly on the show. Lavish jewelry, linebacker shoulder pads and ozone-depleting hair were Dynasty trademarks; the fashion industry profited from it.
Another thing that set Dynasty apart from other shows of the time was Alexis Morell Carrington Colby Dexter Rowan. Alexis, played by Joan Collins, was the pinnacle of Dynasty extravagance. She was cunning and manipulative, her style, sexy and cutting edge. Alexis had all the finesse and presence of a 30s movie star and all the ambition of Wall Street. She was the epitome of both style and power. Every woman and girl in America padded shoulders to emulate her charisma.
Another fashion influence from 1981 was MTV. MTV's impact on fashion and the American public can't be over-emphasized. MTV mixed up the outlandish with the refined. By playing videos and interviews from such flamboyant trendsetters as Madonna, Duran Duran, Cyndi Lauper, Annie Lennox, Adam Ant and Boy George, the fledging channel proffered forth a veritable palette of fads for both sexes. Thanks to MTV, rock-n-roll got a new look. Gone, the boring blue jeans of bands like Journey. Now, rock's attire was scandalous; David Lee Roth and his chaps raised more than a few eyebrows. Rock and spandex was now forever fused. MTV kept on changing fashion throughout the 80s, with shows like 120 Minutes in the mid-80s and Yo! MTV Rap s in the late 80s. With these shows, everyone with cable could hear marvelously new music and see exotically strange musicians like The Cure and Public Enemy.
Fast on the heels of MTV was the unmistakable style of Miami Vice. Television, especially prime time TV, had never seen the likes of Miami Vice and TV has never been the same. Never before had there been a show this unmistakably in vogue. Everything about this show was stylish ... its trendy synthesizers, its locations, even its sleek logo. What sealed its hip factor were the two lead characters, Crockett and Tubbs. Their casual mode of dress was unflappably tough yet very chic. They wore sunglasses, even at night. They wore blazers with t-shirts. They wore canvas shoes sans socks. They were, in a word, "cool." Miami Vice had translated the rock star look into everyday wear.
Another fad friendly show in more recent history was Friends, the show that spawned the "Rachel" hair cut. The show incited mass quantities of tight little sweater tops and Y-shaped necklaces to sprout everywhere; even Sharon Stone sported a tight sweater top to an awards show.
TV junkie or not, you have to admit that the past two and a half decades have proven that television is a key cog in the fashion macrocosm.
Fresh meat -- the true term for freshmen; denotes their status in the dating food chain.
Alcohol -- the equalizer. Everyone looks great and everything is a good idea ... until the next morning.
One night stand -- when two people, often freshly introduced and under the influences of the previous entry, have "relations" with one another. The sleeping arrangements are rarely discussed. Either both parties pass out from exhaustion or one party, after the fun is over, puts on his/her clothes and leaves (the second party may or may not be cognizant of the first party's actions).
Seeing one another -- often referred to as "hanging out." Sleeping over begins with a statement akin to "would it be okay if I crash?"
Dating -- next step up the relationship ladder. Sleeping over is referred to as "spending the night" and sometimes accoutrements are brought along ... clothes for the next day, a toothbrush, etc.
Relationship -- when one refers to the other party as "boyfriend," "girlfriend" or possibly "significant other." Spending the night is a given and the necessities of the morning after are already there.
Bungee couple -- a couple who breaks up and gets back together, breaks up and gets back together, breaks up and gets back together, so on and so forth into infinity.
Now a few key college point that should not be overlooked.If you have a boyfriend/girlfriend who lives in a dorm, be prepared to see him/her at your house 24/7 until you two break up or you get a restraining order. If you live in a dorm and the person you're dating lives in an apartment, just accept that you'll try to spend every waking hour there until you two break up. Just try to avoid restraining orders. If a date ends with "we ought to do this again" but no future date is lined up, it's not going to happen. If you have a key and spend at least three or more nights with the other person, you are in a relationship. There is no such thing as a "sort of boyfriend" or a "kind of girlfriend," just as you cannot be "slightly pregnant" or have a "touch of the clap." All things may be fair in war but they are not all fair in love. However, in love, everything is fair game to throw up in someone's face in an argument. The person with the longest memory wins every lovers' quarrel. If you thought he/she was easy because he/she slept with you from the start, what does that say about you?
Dead Girls, Dead Boys, Dead Things
To term Richard Calder's trilogy, Dead Girls,Dead Boys, and Dead Things, as "engaging" is the understatement of the millennium. Try "all encompassing" or perhaps "omnivorous." The characters, the plot and writing style all draw you inexorably to the center of their universe, a universe governed by quantum physics, nanotechnology, sex, and violence with only the faintest hope of love.
The story begins (though not the action) in the year 2068 when Ignatz Zwakh falls in love with Primavera Bobinski, the prettiest girl in school, who also just happens to be a doll, or a dead girl. A doll is a girl born human who at puberty transforms into something like a cyborg, half organic, half robotic, with the sole purpose of biting human males in order to infect their human chromosomes with the doll half-breed DNA (the doll method of procreation).
At this point, both children are 12 and living in London. Yet with Primavera's fast transmogrifying body and people trying to kill all dolls, a relocation of the dyad is in order. They eventually escape London with the help of Titania, the queen of the dolls (a full-fledged robot herself). Titania smuggles the lovers into Thailand, which is the location of the first action of the novel, four years after their move. The story line only gets more complicated from there.
As it turns out, Iggy is what's known as a dead boy, a male counterpart to the dolls. There are fewer dead boys than dead girls because dead boys are the marshals of the race. Dead boys kill dead girls in ensure that the dolls don't deplete the world of humans, the hosts for their mutant gene.
As complicated as the story line sounds, it all makes perfect sense in context of the world that Calder creates, a world of technologically created vampires and assassins. All the plot twists and bizarre rituals of the Liliam and Elohim (dead girls and dead boys respectively) make as much sense as talk shows and fast food restaurants do today.
On one level, this is the purest of love stories. Iggy's love for Primavera's lasts for centuries and reaches the level of religion. From the first page of the trilogy to the last page, Iggy's main impetus is to be with his love, Primavera, in whatever form she takes, girl, doll, vampire, or the even more subverse form of Liliam, the fellatrix or cat.
On another level, Calder analyzes the nature of the objectification of women. Liliam are "girly-girls." They live for make-up and clothes and games of dress-up. In fact, they are their clothes. Much of the novel discusses their outfits and their painstaking care in choosing them. Dolls are living, breathing fetishes, every man's airbrushed dream girl. Within this extreme idolization lies the key to the Liliam's power of destruction. Objectification of women created the Lilliam, their birth spawned by their creator's desire to control women which ultimately stemmed from his inherent fear of women.
The dead boys objectify the dead girls more than even the humans do. Liliam are only meat to the Elohim. Dolls are merely something to be desired and then destroyed. Part of the Elohim's need to destroy the Lilliam also revolves around the fact that Elohim subject themselves to objectification as well -- they are also their clothes. Only the destruction of the dolls give their existence any meaning.
This extreme objectification of women, at first glance, seems like simple misogyny. However, one must remember, at the heart of this plot is a love story; all Iggy wants is to be with Primavera. The Lilliam and Elohim of this future world magnify the objectification so rampant in our own society. These creatures are merely the future spawn of our own misalligned desires and uncontrolled obsessions.
Taking into account both the nature of the Lilliam, which is to appeal to as many human males as possible in order to infect them with their DNA virus, and the quest of all Elohim, to destroy their sisters before they destroy humanity, much of the trilogy's content is highly sexual and extremely violent. Over and over, Calder discusses the market for pornography in this culture and the allure the Liliam hold for so many man. He goes into graphic, gory detail about the death and mutiliation of many Liliam and the rush of euphoria the Elohim feel during the destruction. Yet again, there is nothing gratuitous about these scenes; it serves as an accurate microscope for our own time.
Another theme for the trilogy is the effects of consumerism and capitalism. All the pornography and, inevitably, all the violence is geared toward the consumer market. Through the exaggeration of violence, Calder points out the detrimental influence of greed on society's temperament and its inhabitants, espeically their attitudes toward and treatment of one another.
In addition to these weighty motifs, Calder's writing is incredibly dense. His world of the future is as intricate as any created by Tolkien or Hubert. However, he throws the reader head first into his universe, without so much as a glossary of terms as a life preserver. His style is so rich, though, it doesn't take long before the reader begins breathing Calder's words as easy as air. His themes and images are as dark and as apocalyptic as one would expect at the turn of the century, just as the redeeming quality of love is as strong and poignant as one would hope for the turning millennium. Truly, Calder's trilogy is a group of the best work of fiction, sci-fi or otherwise, of the century.
It was yet another dark and stormy night in Tallahassee Monday when I went to review FSU's School of Theatre's Spring Musical Three Penny Opera. Technically speaking, the show doesn't open until tonight. However, I was able to catch a special performance held for theatre majors, in order to give you, my beloved readers, a sneak peak of the show.
Though Three Penny Opera is a musical, the book and lyrics are written by Bertolt Brecht; therefore, it is no "happy-go-lucky" piece. The play, under the guise of following one philanderer's escapades with the ladies and the law, is filled with biting social commentary. The play takes an unflinching look at such institutions as marriage, capitalism, and the oldest profession, prostitution (a favorite theme of Brecht).
Juxtapose this political bent with Kurt Weill's sometimes dissonant music, and you'll get the polar opposite of an evening with Andrew Lloyd Weber. This isn't to say that the play is not enjoyable. It's highly entertaining -- sex, violence, song, dance, cat fights between women and MELODRAMA. What more could you need? Let's add thought-provoking insights with no sugar-coating to the list.
This production was extremely good. The direction was very intense and Expressionistic (which basically means the actors were in your face, just as Brecht would have loved it). The approach to the set was novel, a thrust stage at a jaunty angle which captured the seediness of the play.
The acting, singing and dancing were all very good, though no one actor's performance stood out as stellar ( Brecht would be proud; he was very democratic about such things).
What stole the show for me was the sheer spectacle of it all -- costumes, make-up, tableau-esque scenes.
The costumes were sheer genius, half Victorian, half modern. Now, maybe it's just me, but I thought there were many popular culture references in the costumes. Let me give some examples.
At one point, Mrs. Peachum was dressed and singing like Absolutely Fabulous. And I just know Mack the Knife was wearing a yellow-and-black striped vest as an oblique reference to Sting's stage debut as that character.
My favorite costumes belonged to the prostitutes. Someone must have raided Madonna's 80s wardrobe which defined "tramp." They must've used at least one can of hair spray for each head of hair. One girl wore a green jacket that could've been taken straight out of the "Dress You Up In My Love" video.
Three words of advice when you go: 1.) It's two and a half hours (including two five minute intermissions) -- hit the bathroom before the show; 2.) Don't sit in the front row or on the aisles if you don't want actors in your lap; 3.) Lean forward every time someone behind you passes by. The Lab is close quarters and otherwise, you'll get hit in the head with an ass or two.
Monday, October 12, The Church played the Roxy in Atlanta. You know The Church ... they did "Under the Milky Way" in 1988. Yes, they're still around; yes, they have a new album and yes, they're touring, and believe me, it's a beautiful thing.
I will admit to some trepidation at first. After all, this the summer of 80s backlash tours. Everybody's been getting back together to cash in on our culture of instant nostalgia and I was afraid that perhaps The Church's performance would be an attempt to re-animate the bloated corpse of their 80s heyday. Added to this fear was the fact that I hadn't heard their new album so I didn't know if somewhere along the way I had become unwittingly separated from The Church. But, since I've always had faith in The Church, I took a gamble and bought the ticket. I had nothing to fear; I was still in the fold and my faith was well rewarded.
The concert was phenomenal. Or should I say "religious." Their musicianship was strong with an insane amount of energy. It was obvious that they were not simply rehashing old songs. They still felt everything, every note, every line. What's more, it was apparent that they appreciated the old songs ... granted with the grain of salt that comes with having to perform something you wrote over 10 years ago but with no trace of ennui.
To see them was simply awe-inspiring. Yes, they were older but they still retained that core of The Church that drew me to them all those years ago. Marty was a still a glam rocker utilizing every trick known to both god and Rickenbacker. Peter was still weaving his delicate lattice of guitar arabesques, as rich as any Waterhouse painting. The two of them flanking the stage, a rock star devil on one side and Pre-Raphealite angel on the other with Kilbey, so still, so mesmerizing, in the middle, eloquent with his bass and his voice of a bard and a more than wry half smile. And the drummer, Tim Powles, was fantastic, rounding out the trio to an even quartet.
They started with "priest=aura," and it only got better from there. They played all the faves, "Reptile," "Under the Milky Way" (you could literally feel the crowd mouth all the words), and "Tantalized." They, of course, played songs from the new CD, but they also played some little gems ("Old Flame," "Almost With You," and "ripple") that I wasn't expecting.
The turnout was not huge but very devoted -- after all, we were with The Church. The crowd was mixed ... people whose hair got caught in the 80s time warp to people with their kids.
Honestly, this was by far the best concert I've ever been too ... better than my Lollapaloozas, better than Bauhaus ... even better than The Artist, and that in and of itself should speak volumes. The performance was everything that a concert should be, everything life should be -- intense and intimate, supersaturated reality.
Just when you think you've heard it all, someone comes up with something so odd, so off-the-wall, that it blows you away. That's what Self has done with the new album Gizmodgery.
What's so unique about Gizmodgery? For starters, it was recorded entirely using toy instruments. Yes, you read that right ... toy instruments ... like PlaySchool Busy Guitar, Micro Jammer Drums, Little Tikes Xylophone and even a Mattel See & Say. That's pretty unusual, wouldn't you say? Maybe even a little kooky.
The whimsical choice of instruments adds a captivatingly novel dimension to the music. The sound also reflects the album's theme of childhood nostalgia. Self plays not just with this nostalgia's wistfulness but with the inevitable irony and kitsch. The pinnacle of their balance of wistfulness and irony of age is Self's cover of The Doobie Brother's "What A Fool Believes." Played on a toy piano, it is truly an act of genius worthy of Duchamp himself.
Yet, Gizmodgery isn't just an example of creative instrumentation; it's a damn fine pop rock album. It has catchy hooks, jamming riffs and some mighty clever lyrics. My personal favorite, "Pattycake" even incorporates lines from the "Ms. Suzy" series of schoolyard chants; with its contagious groove and fun beat, the song is, in a word, addictive.
The whole album is just simply fantastic but don't just take my word for it. Check out a preview of a few of the songs at www.spongebathrec.com and then get your own dose of Gizmodgery.
Truth be know, until recently, I wasn't overly impressed the great world of the Internet. True, e-mail is convenient and provides instant gratification, and the Web is quite an intriguing advertising tool, but none of this seemed worth the eyestrain from hours of looking at a computer screen.
I remained, for quite a while, aloof from cyberspace. I was very utilitarian in my use of the web, and only e-mailed friends to supplement letters and phone calls, and to occasionally kill some time at work while still looking productive. However, discerning readers will have noted the "until recently" that prefaced my statement. That, my gentle readers, is because I've now been ensnared by the Web.
It began innocently enough, as most addictions do. It came in the form of a friend introducing me to a Tarot-reading web site. To some this may not be such a lure but I've always been entranced by the Tarot and many things now classified as "New Age." One could create thousands of hypotheses for this gravitation to other-worldly things: my "need to know;" my desire to use that other 90 percent of my brain; too many fantasy novels at too young an age; or simply the fact that, with my dark hair and pale skin, I look the part of the witch/vampire/New Age foo-foo chick.
But that's not the point: The point is I found a web page that actually tweaked my interest. This page had several different Tarot decks, a few of which I owned, and there were several types of readings to choose from. With this page, one could also get a rune, I-Ching or biorhythm reading. I started consulting the page every day, not so much to find out my "future," but because the randomness and the synchronicity were enthralling.
After a week or so, I grew tired of the site. Like any true addict, I sought something more, something with better images, a different angle -- a horoscope site maybe. My original search lead me to the daily horoscope site for the "Excite" search engine. From there I found sites that did weekly readings, monthly readings and readings for the entire year of 1998. There were sites for Chinese horoscopes, sites that did compatibility readings for friendships and for love relationships. I found more sites that did Tarot, rune and I-Ching readings. There were sites just to list of these various sites. To top it off, most of the sites were free. Hell, you could even consult a psychic over the internet (for a price).
These sites were fascinating. Not simply because I could find out when Jupiter would be in the sign of Pisces, or whether I was more compatible with an air sign or a fire sign, but because of the visual aspects of these sites. So many of them were pretty. A lot of celestial imagery (suns, moons, stars and whatnot), naturally, but there were other themes, such as the ocean or the wheel of the zodiac. This one woman had Pre-Raphaelite pictures throughout her web page (you know, pictures of the Lady of Shalott or Ophelia, where all the women have magnolia-white skin and a veritable mane of hair, generally of a reddish hue) -- the art fag in me just squealed with delight. What's more, I could not pull myself away from these sites until I had explored every angle.
Of course, now I've moved on to other topics -- tattoos, the club scene in Europe, Alice in Wonderland. My pupils are half their normal size from site quests and I'm beginning to think in terms of Web-site addresses -- this World Wide Web is sticky stuff indeed!
The following sites offered free services unless otherwise noted:
Astrology Zone --go.astrologyzone.com -- This site offers very detailed planetary information with forecasts about love, finances, and even health. Get monthly horoscopes as well as one for the entire year. Matrix Space -- 205.186.189.2/ms/ms_root.html -- A somewhat inscrutable address but worth the trouble. Get Tarot, rune, I-Ching an astrology readings. This site also has numerology, friends-and-lovers compatibility, a fortune-cookie reading and a yes/no reading (the Web's answer to the Magic Eight Ball) Facade (the original World Wide Web Tarot Site) -- www.facade.com/attraction/tarot-- This was my first New Age site. It has wonderful graphics, several different kinds of Tarot decks and four kinds of runes. Mythic Stars -- www.mysticstars.com/index.html-- By far one of the prettiest web pages. The horoscope readings are free, but not the dream or image consultations. Horoscopes from the Heavens --www.lionart.com/zodiac.htm -- This site provides fairly short horoscope forecasts with a listing of high- and low-energy days, most memorable days and lucky days. Excite Horoscope -- myexcite.com/horoscopes -- Cute, one-paragraph daily outooks with the option to see the present day, yesterday, or tomorrow. Free Will Astrology -- www.freewillastrology.com -- This site offers very quirky readings that can be a little obtuse though very interesting and, often, very enlightening. Case in point, "The key of life accidentally placed inside a Cracker Jack box." It'll keep you guessing for weeks. Astronet -- www.astronet.com-- A site with lovely graphics, as well as all types of horoscopes and divination readings. Personal Outlook -- webl.asia1.comsg/horoscope -- This site offers Chinese horoscopes with some nice graphics. Storm's Astrology -- stormnet.net/pisw.htm -- A nice-looking site with basic but free horoscopes, a chat line and some psychics (for a price). Zodiac Information Services -- www.pol.com/people/mike/zodiac/horo.htm -- This is a very good list of sites with reviews of the sites Astrology Spot -- www.astologyspot.com/html -- A site with a pretty good listing and a really cool-looking moon.
Little known fact ... Aeon Trix is to fashion what the groundhog is to weather.
On February 2, whether or not Ms. Trix sees her shadow decides the fate of fashion for the rest of the year. Scientists and structuralists alike are studying the correlation between the capricious cutie's shadow and the trends in fashion; there's even a very hush-hush government project devoted to this matter.
Until these experts determine the factors that affect this situation, we simply have to rely on Ms. Trix's shadow. Unfortunately for us, glamour puss Aeon doesn't always get out of bed before the sun sets. Such was the case last year. After partying non-stop since January 30, a Friday, she finally got to a bed shortly before sunrise on February 2, a Monday. So intense was her beauty rest, she didn't wake up until well after dark on the third. As a result, fashion was not at a pinnacle in '98.
Our ineffable elf is fully aware of her power over fashion and resolved, for the sake of mankind (and her shopping sprees), not to sleep through Groundhog Day this year. It was, after all, 1999, that infamous year of debauchery and reckoning. Aeon couldn't have us facing the imminent possibility of the annihilation of the human race, nay of the world, with bad style! Good fashion sense is the key to otherworldly delights and sensible shoes are a one-way ticket to hell or, at the very least, a never-ending Avon convention (that was as far into theology as Aeon ever ventured).
Originally, Aeon planned on just staying up all night and greet the sunrise, and her shadow, with the conviction that she had the saved the world further experiments with 80s shoulder pads and clog shoes. It shouldn't have been a difficult task, especially with a little help from her friends....
Nevertheless, even the best laid plans of minxes and men often go awry. She and Secret found themselves a delicious treat to share which took up most of the night. The problem became, since Aeon kept her sanctuary as dark as pitch to protect her slumber, how was she to know when the sun rose?
With stern determination, our devoted damsel set her alarm, something quite out of character; it took her a minute to recall the whole process of alarm setting. Yet, even within this plan lay a hidden snare -- the snooze button. Yes, she set the clock for 2:30, giving her a blasé eight hours sleep, but instinctually, she hit the snooze; over and over again, barely stirring out of dreams. Aeon eluded the waking state.
Regardless of our laggard lass, this story has a happy ending ... thanks to Aeon's deep imbedded fear of ugly clothes. Aeon dreamed she was in a lime green colored room with only Lazy Boys for furniture. Everyone in the room was wearing capri pants. All the men had shag haircuts, and all the women had mullet cuts. Aeon awoke with start, very nearly breaking a sweat. It was then that she remembered her mission ... to see her shadow. She quickly donned her favorite negligee (it nearly covered everything) and a pair of sunglasses (no diva leaves home without them) and went to check the mail. As she looked down and saw her beautiful shadow, she knew we would all greet 2000 in style.
Tune in next time ... as Aeon snares a feast fit for the gods.